|
|
The Pig War - by Jeffrey A. Thomas
The Pig War
by Jeffrey A. Thomas
|
THE PIG WAR – AN ALTERNATE HISTORY
SAN JUAN ISLAND
WASHINGTON TERRITORY (DISPUTED)
JUNE 15, 1859
Lyman Cutlar awoke to the sound of laughter. Outside the cabin some one was finding something very funny, the deep guffaws continued as he climbed out of bed. His Indian wife stirred slightly as he got up and went to the open window. He looked out to see Jacob, a colored servant from the Hudson Bay Company's farm, astride a horse, pointing and laughing at something in his garden. Then he saw the pig. The big tusker was in his potato patch, rooting out tubers to its heart's content.
"Damn it," he yelled at the black man, "I've told you people to keep that thing out of my garden!"
Jacob turned to look at him, then turned back to laugh at the pig.
This was more than Cutlar could stand. The pig had been destroying his crops for days. He'd written the company, and then gone to Belle Vue farm, the company's outpost on the Island to confront Griffin, the manager.
They'd almost come to blows.
The two men were a distinct contrast in dress and styles. Cutlar was a tall thin, unkempt Yankee with a wild beard and a lock of greasy hair hanging into his face. He'd been on the Island only a few months, he'd tried his hand at mining, and was hoping to hear about another strike. This looked like a good place to wait until something else turned up. Griffin was a short dapper Englishman, wearing a business suit, in contrast to the American's overalls. His beard and hair were both neatly trimmed. He had been here for years, working the Hudson Bay Company farm, and turning it into a respectable enterprise.
"That boar is eating me out of house and home, it's your obligation to keep your pig out of my potatoes."
Griffin had responded with "It's your obligation to keep your potatoes out of my pig! And if you can't do that stop squatting on company land."
"That is not company land, it's mine under the Homestead Act."
"Your Homestead Act doesn't apply because you're on British soil, you ignorant Yank!"
At that point a couple of workers come up.
"Need some help Mr. Griffin?"
"Show this lout back to his shack."
"Don't bother," Cutlar growled, "I know the way."
And now here it was, eating his ‘taters again.
He picked up his long Kentucky rifle, and stepped out the door. Lining the pig up in the sights, he pulled the trigger.
With a sharp BANG and cloud of powder smoke the gun spat lead. The pig fell over with a thud. Startled and frightened Jacob took off at a gallop toward the company farm.
The next day, Cutlar was lounging in front of his cabin, although in later reports the British would refer to it as a shack. He saw Griffin, accompanied by several of his men coming up the sloping path toward him.
"You killed my pig!"
"Yes I did and I'm glad of it."
"That was a prize Berkshire boar. It was company property and you need to pay for it!"
Cutlar thought for a moment. Perhaps, to avoid a fight he should offer to compensate Griffin for his loss.
"I can give you a dollar."
Griffin looked as if his head would explode, he turned red, and huffed in anger. "I said that was my prize boar, how dare you shoot it and insult me on top of damage me?"
"I'd just as soon shoot you as that pig!" Cutlar was now also turning red.
"I demand one hundred dollars now!" Griffin shot back.
Cutlar laughed and spat at Griffin's feet.
"There's your hundred dollars."
Griffin pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Lyman Cutlar, this is a warrant for your arrest, for trespassing on company land, and killing a pig, which was company property. Come with us."
"You can't arrest me! I'm an American."
"And you're on British soil. Come along, no need to make this difficult."
Cutlar looked at the men with guns that now had him surrounded, and gave in to the inevitable.
Copyright © 2003 by Jeffrey A. Thomas
Please send comments to Jeffrey A. Thomas at:
sneakythomas@hotmail.com
|
|
|
|
